


The Way They Drank That Absinthe Reverie

by frumpy_furby, MuseValentine



Series: The Way [4]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Absinthe, Alternate Universe - Human, Dancing, Drinking, Drunk Sex, F/M, Lingerie, Lust, Valentine's Day, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29439909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frumpy_furby/pseuds/frumpy_furby, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuseValentine/pseuds/MuseValentine
Summary: The liquor of the poets, as romantic as it sounds, sure is able to make minds go fervent with need and desire.
Relationships: Alastor/Charlie Magne
Series: The Way [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968760
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	The Way They Drank That Absinthe Reverie

**Author's Note:**

> All characters from the Hazbin Hotel belong to Vivziepop. We merely live and breathe the show and the Charlastor ship.
> 
> Follow us on Twitter! [@MuseVlt](https://twitter.com/MuseVlt) & [@frumpy_furby](https://twitter.com/frumpy_furby) !

Every profession requires a certain set of essential prowess, be it exceptional stress resilience, dexterity or some more unusual personal characteristics. In her field of work, lightweights were at a disadvantage; and so, while Charlie was no abstainer, she was far from being a tippler, either. Without a shadow of a doubt, though, she wasn’t as innocent of a woman as she seemed in the eyes of her beholder. Charlie was adventurous – and the ways of the drink, whether they be the finest reds or the hardest firewaters, were just a fraction of the earthly delights she loved exploring.

Absinthe, though, was a territory she had never ventured into before. 

“Come now, darling,” Alastor purred. “It’s a special day.”

Not because of the date on the calendar, no, definitely not. He never liked Valentine's Day. In fact, he abhorred the sleazy, unbecoming couples wriggle-diggling in the middle of the streets in broad daylight, seizing the opportunity of the one holiday in the calendar in which the gazes of old ladies and aunties would be a bit less judgmental. He hated the kitsch, pink boxes of substandard chocolates, and the scanty bouquets of roses, the most boring and cliché gifts one could think of. The consumerism of Valentine’s, its lack of refinery and taste, disgusted him.

A celebration of love, as they said, in his eyes should be something very different. Something private. Sensual. Profound and unforgettable.

No stranger to casual dating, Alastor wasn’t able to find a woman worthy of such affections. He has been with many girls: the giddy ones, the prudish ones, the ‘different from others’ ones. Some of them were more worthwhile, some less, that’s true – but none managed to tarry his interest for long enough.

No woman could compare to Charlie Magne.

“I have something...  _ special _ for you.”

“If it’s lingerie, you know you’ve gotten me too many already, Alastor…”

Quiet heartiness of his laugh resonated in the room. “Is that so? Well, you’ll see for yourself. But for now, we drink.”

Following his inviting gesture, Charlie’s eyes moved to the curious, ornamented set on the table. However she was acquainted with the  _ idea _ of the green fairy, she has never actually seen the process of its preparation, nor the instruments required.

The absinthiana was of the purest silver, glistening slightly in the dim light. The deft of his fingers moved with grace, knowing its way around the intricate tools, and Charlie watched quietly as he poured the green liquid into a matching pair of crystal Pontarlier Reservoirs. Around her, a strong aroma of anise spirit wafted, so potent she could almost taste the alcohol in the air, before even taking a sip. Barely noticeably, her mouth parted, tongue bitten with the flavour. It was bitter. Harsh.  _ Tempting. _

A peculiarly intricate spoon perched atop each glass with a single cube of sugar. Peculiarity grew as Alastor pulled out his lighter to set the sugar aflame, a fire of a bluish-red tinge engulfing it immediately. Caught up in the dance of a fervent flamenco, with no other choice but to stop the futile resistance and surrender, its sweet core melted little by little. Even when the flame disappeared in a burst, as suddenly as it appeared, the heat it left behind continued the delightful torture, until nothing but a toussled muddle was left lying on the silver plater.

But, perhaps, the burst of passion was less of a suffering than the way droplets of icy cold water dripped on whatever was left of the sugar, its progression so painstakingly slow and decelerated. Charlie’s thighs drew together closer in a restrained fantasy as she observed the process, as if experiencing the sweet, burned mixture’s sensation, dissolving inside the crystal and gradually clouding the pellucid green liquid, along with it. She waited impatiently, the anticipation only making the hunger within her grow stronger.

Alastor’s eyes saw her internal struggle, and he smirked satisfied, placing the glasses on porcelain spots, giving the absinthe one last stir. Charlie breathed soundlessly.

It was time.

“Cheers, darling.”

Glasses clinked in unison, the absinthe swirling inside like a gentle tide agitating a pond just before a storm hits. The cool condensation on her fingers surprised her; it was like a chill running down her throat, rather than a raging flame she expected of an alcohol this potent. Soon enough though, a trail of fire indeed started to creep up, and her eyes opened wider.

The taste was certainly unique, the bitterness sharp even on first sip, the sugar barely mellowing it out, however adding a delectable hint of caramel. She licked her lips with just the tip on her tongue, studying the flavor. Undoubtedly, it was the strongest liquor Charlie had ever tasted - enough to make her feel gradually more lightheaded within just a few minutes.

“Gosh,” she mumbled, though it must have sounded more like a slur. “This is really… really…”

Hellishly bitter. Heavenly rich. And so impossibly  _ light _ in all of its overwhelming array of flavors.

She herself felt nearly weightless, the air around her swirling, and the dust sparkling like silvery glitter settling on her hair and trembling skin. Charlie looked around, eyes opened wide in wonder, as she discovered the world was veiled from her previously. Giggling, she watched as the faeries pottered around her, gathering the precious flecks, the flapper of their invisible wings tickling her cheeks. The pace they were going at, it was impossible; the room swoon around, as if she was on a carousel, the blurred colors of the surroundings gaining in intensity and saturation. Oh, how beautiful, how strikingly  _ splendid! _ The rush in her head, and in her veins, was one of excitement. And even if she had to pay for it with a throbbing headache and nausea as soon as she got out from the merry-go-round, it was more than worth it. An audible gasp escaped her lips, and she turned to her lover, curious to see what sensations he might be undergoing.

Alastor seemed to be faring much better than she was at the moment. He was resting his head on his hand, elbow crooked languidly on the top of the couch’s backrest. Absentmindedly swirling what was left of absinthe in his glass before sipping it up, he gazed at Charlie with a mellowness to his smile. Charlie wondered how often he must have had absinthe to maintain his composure in such a way that he was simply enjoying a nice smooth ride on the pleasurable high, wholly unaware of how his thoughts were running rampant as hers were. The imagination of an amazingly sexy lady with golden blonde hair and fairy wings working a pole with such grace and elegance that it could be compared to a ballet, sending desire coursing through his veins with the beat of imaginary club music that enticed him with promises of euphoria. 

Charlie was too busy watching the fairies fluttering around to realise she was swaying until she felt herself slump to Alastor’s side, where his arm automatically came to wrap around her shoulders. He looked as guzzled up as she was, wearing it with a serene smile and eyes staring right at her suggestively. 

It was inevitable, and very much anticipated, yet Charlie still gasped when Alastor cupped her jaw and leaned in for a kiss. The sweet kisses burned like the absinthe itself, even the tiniest of them fire stoking the flames growing in her core. 

He had somehow managed to take both glasses and set it away to the table in the rush that followed. The absinthe was taking its effect and now it had culminated in the midst of the mess of limbs, fingers tangled in each other’s hairs, and lips fitted perfectly it was like they were meant for each other. Moving against each other, feeling each other, wanting more of each other. 

“Get to my room,” Alastor murmured against her skin. “In the closet. Put it on.”

Charlie smiled indulgently, perhaps even rolling her eyes internally, but complied. As fascinating of a person Alastor as undoubtedly was, being creative with presents certainly wasn’t his forte. A firm bet could be placed with how the things were proceeding for the mysterious gift to be yet another set of lingerie. If sober, Charlie would probably protest; at this point she had enough risque undergarments to last a lifetime, especially since the ridiculously high price tags made her think twice each time she was about to put them on.

However, she was  _ nothing _ but sober. Her drunk self was taken by the fleeting touch of his hands tracing the curves of her body, and the soft smile playing on his lips as he pressed insistent kisses on her neck, making her lose her resolve and oblige so willingly to his desire.

Because she wanted to play, too.

As she lifted herself from opposite him, the world swirled around in a woozy blur. Charlie once again gasped quietly; despite feeling the green fairy’s effects since the beginning, she didn’t think she would be  _ this _ overwhelmed by her magic with such ease. Trying to regain balance lost, she leaned against Alastor’s shoulder, gripping it tightly. The pair… no,  _ two _ pairs of his dark eyes looked at her quizzically, and she answered the silent question with a sheepish smile.

“I’m a little dizzy.”

He smirked in return, but she didn’t see that, squinting in a rather failed attempt to stabilize her vision. The stately furniture of Alastor’s living room and corridor moved on its own, swaying and waltzing to the tune she couldn’t make out in the increasingly loudening ringing in her ears. The distance she had to cover certainly seemed shorter when she was still comfortably seated, now appearing before her eyes endless, each wobbly step a struggle to walk with at least somewhat of dignity.

Finally, the destination was reached, and she blinked a few times, processing the sight which appeared before her eyes.

In case of any other man, Charlie would most likely assume she was simply hallucinating, blaming the sight on the effects of absinthe. But, it was  _ Alastor’s _ closet she found herself in; and next to nothing concerning him could surprise her anymore.

The walk-in closet was vast, ridiculously enormous even. No girl she knew wouldn’t wish for a room like that; Charlie herself no exception, sometimes daydreaming of having such a space to fill it with countless dresses, blouses and coats. A silly little thought; she could never afford neither the wardrobe, nor as big of a number of clothing. It just wasn’t realistic, beyond the reach of someone of her standing.

Apparently, it wasn’t out of Alastor’s, and she furrowed her brows. Did he, perchance, forget regular people didn’t have as much storage space for apparel as he had? And, by the way, why on  _ Earth _ would he ever need this much storage space  _ himself _ ? Admittedly, the man was exceptionally elegant and dandy, but that was just on the nose, even if the majority of shelves and hangers were empty.

She shook her head, smiling delicately. Just how many more bizarre traits of her lover she still had left to uncover?

Her shaky gaze focused on the middle of the room, in which on an armchair, an open box lied. On it, was something she didn’t quite suspect. Not lingerie  _ per se _ , but she couldn’t think of any other word to describe the delicate, gauzy item.

Alastor could hear her rustling inside the closet. The doors were closed, but he wasn’t complaining, enjoying being in for a surprise. What he had chosen was curious indeed, so very different from the lace and netting he had always picked out specially for her. In the feel of the fabric, there was something different, something that tempted him with an image of sweet Charlie dressed in nothing  _ but _ this exquisite garment.

He felt a tad chilly despite the warmth sitting nicely in his belly. A push of a button and the flames of the electric fireplace were lit, illuminating his bedroom with a soft orange glow. He swayed slowly to his bed, his fingers popping open a button of his shirt with each step until it hung loose on his lean frame. He carelessly flopped onto his back and into his soft mattress, head swimming in the alcohol, making him feel as if he was lying weightless on clouds. It was a nice sort of comfy, the sort of buzz like the soothing sound of silence after the radio goes off-air. It was the sort that could lull him to sleep. 

But how could sleep be on his mind when the closet doors opened to reveal an absolute vision of beauty?

Draped in nothing but sheer fabric, her silhouette was illuminated by the low fires. The sheer intensity of her gaze pierced him, as though she could read his most carnal desires. Yet still, she moved with the shyness of an innocent girl, the translucent silk clinging to her slim frame, whispering against the soft, pale skin with each dainty step she took. His eyes were tantalized with the shapes of her mounds and the curves of her thighs, a glowing chassis he wished so desperately to reach out to and caress with his very hands.

It was much simpler than the usual lingerie she would adorn, and the view was making him thirst for her with strength never seen before. But, he knew better than to presume her walk to be just another one of her tease shows. No, this - with her in nothing more but a veil, her movements filled with slow, beguiling sensuality - was far more intimate. Meant for him, for his eyes, and his eyes alone.

In the desire she alluded, she looked so virtuous, so sinless. With her veil, she exhibited the purity akin to a Vestal Virgin, one which has taken the vows of chastity, to eternally deny herself the joys of the flesh in adoration to the gods. And yet, there she was, a miscreant virgin lying underneath him with trustful eyes, and a burning yearning, longing for his gentle caresses and eyes gazing in awe, as if she herself was an apparition of the only true Goddess.

With each stroke of fingers he claimed her body, and the sensation, the sheer adrenaline of the forbidden, made her shiver in delight. But, it still wasn’t enough. For him, the greedy man, it was never enough.

For what he desired, was her soul. 

“Do you like what you see?”

He twisted a finger in the air. “Give me a spin, my dear. I want to look at all of you in it.”

Flaunting her figure was second nature to her, knowing all the good angles and how best to make the pertness of her curves more prominent. Taking her time, she slowly twisted her body, so he could drink in the complete picture of her.

And that, he did - Charlie giggled, seeing Alastor angle his head, watching her behind disappear out of view. A sly smile played on her perfect lips and she twisted again in the opposite direction with arms raised above her head, and she danced, as slowly and ravishing as the fires burning right behind her.

Alastor was not a jealous man – but now, forced to be a mere spectator to the Delilah’s dance, he wished he could be the glow of the flames shining on her fair skin, caressing her body in light and shaping out her sensual silhouette framed by the shimmer of translucent silk skimming against smooth porcelain as though careful to not break her. 

Together with the absinthe overwhelming his mind, outlandish thoughts entered his imagination. The thoughts of Charlie, who dressed in that veil looked so much like a bride; like  _ his _ bride. His desire stirred at the prospect of them in a more binding manner, and he wondered what would have to be done for him to be given the chance to have her in every way in which she could be his.

Each step she took towards the bed was like a walk down the aisle, until she finally reached the arbor that was the space right between his outstretched legs. Alastor could only gaze at her in awe when she did not wait a second longer before climbing up and flanking him at his waist. His fingers answered, gripping themselves around her hips, sinking into the soft flesh. Her breasts heaved with shimmers like small diamonds, and he realised however delicate and brilliant Charlie seemed, she wasn’t a precious stone herself. She wouldn’t shatter, no; she would endure his greedy, hungry touches, and do it with  _ pleasure _ .

Each kiss held raw intensity, racing breaths and heart rates, all passionate and exquisite intoxication. Their bodies pressed up against each other, her breasts lush against his chest, so soft, and so warm. When Alastor caressed her sides, Charlie’s kisses became fiercer and forceful, pushing him down until he was trapped to the bed by her small, but overpowering frame. 

“...I want you…” Her murmur was all but breathy sighs against his lips. “...Let me have you...”

Alastor couldn’t resist the chuckle slipping through his lips, pleased that as much as she could be in control, desperation wracked her as it did him. But while the chance to be naughty, amusing himself with drawing this out was tempting indeed, alas, he too was impatient.

“Take me.”

Such a command, so subtle, yet it shook Charlie to her core, compliant to his quiet demand of submission. It made her weak in the knees - or maybe it was all absinthe? Drunk on either anise liquor or the sheer atmosphere of the man, she could not hold straight up anymore, simply letting herself fall to the side as Alastor rolled them over, now hovering above her. 

Kisses as hot as the first time enraptured her in a pleasurable heat all over again. They were fierce, and needy, like a storm raging, the sheer contrast with the cold softness of the mattress and sheets sliding against her body an indescribable sensation, one of passion, but also of overwhelming comfort. Her mind fogged, and Charlie was lost in the sea of pleasure, going further down the surface with each passing moment. She was drowning willingly, a content smile lifting the corners of her parted mouth. The depths did not scare her - not when his arms were there to keep her afloat.

His lips were just as eternal as his eyes, a point of soulful connections between them both. To have them trailing down from her mouth to her jaw, and to her neck, was where the loving truly began, where she could feel the very tangible nature of his fervent need. 

“...Alastor…”

The way she moaned, something about it had an effect on him like nothing else did. Priding himself in keeping up the poise and elegance both in and out of the public eye, befitting the sort of manners he has been brought up with, all of this was gone with Charlie around, especially around like _ that _ . She was… something else entirely, breaking years of resolve with such ease, scandalizing him like he has never been before.

One vague touch of this moment, and he ignited with desire stretching far beyond carnal hankering his mind would usually be overwhelmed by; he craved her with both his body and his soul, embracing her in every thought, dream and hopeful wish. His imagination ran wild, bouncing back and forth between both aspects of his yearnings. What  _ wouldn’t _ he do to show her his absolute devotion, he wondered?

He would be willing to do everything. He would be willing to lose himself with her, let her do whatever she would wish to do with him, and  _ to _ him. One utterance of complaint wouldn’t escape his lips, but rather a breath of delight. An innocent seductress, the heady trance in which he was incarcerated, a spell casted, the only way to break it reaching a high their bodies oh so craved.

And it was with such an irresistible craving that rough hands sought for the hems of the veil, impatient in feeling soft and supple flesh through its silkiness. In the heat of the moment, he almost broke apart the fragile threading of the fabric, and it took all the little restraint left in him to simply slide underneath the material, their bare skin meeting.

“Look at you…” he murmured, watching Charlie writhing under his touch. “So eager… So desperate… And all for me.”

The tone of his voice… oh, the things it was doing to her! Irresistible, it made her lose all the control she had left. However she might have wished otherwise, she didn't even  _ try _ to withstand the need raising in her with each soft murmur of his. Her core burned with need, with obscene, scandalous thoughts she wouldn’t admit even before herself. What she craved, what she wanted him to do… no decent phrases could describe her lust that grew when strong fingers pressed into her thighs to slowly pry them apart, as a very obvious hard-on suddenly pressed to her tender spot. 

“You’re making it really tempting to just fuck you here and now,” Alastor sighed as he massaged himself onto her. He could feel himself straining against the restraints of his trousers, yearning to spring free and taste the sweetness this darling woman offered. 

“Then do it,” Charlie mewled, no resolve to hide her desperate need as her body reacted to his. “You did this to me. Only you. I’m all yours.”

Fingers continued to trail languidly underneath the veil, feeling the dip of her belly button and the smooth cavern between her pert breasts. “Exactly,” he chuckled. “You’re all  _ mine _ .”

Being no strangers to each other’s bodies anymore, one would think Charlie would not shy away from the intimacy of Alastor’s hungry stare, which had felt much more scandalous than being scantily clad in a veil did, especially when he got off her for just a short moment, making her mewl until her breath hitched as she watched him peel off the unbuttoned shirt, making work with his belt. The slow slide of top-grade leather through the loops was like the calm before the storm before he unzipped his trousers and pulled them down with his underwear in fluid motion, finally releasing his want. 

Charlie had no time to admire him as she would many other times, because Alastor was a tad too impatient to keep with the foreplay any longer. Without a warning, an arm tucked under her knees and lifted both her legs up, completely baring her treasure to him. She yelped at the sudden exposure, but stopped immediately when she suddenly felt the familiar swollen tip of a girth brushing against her sweet and wet folds. Alastor was already throbbing,  _ aching _ for her, and swore the sheer awareness made her just the slightest bit wetter. Her breathing hitched; all Charlie could muster was a loud wanton moan, with back arched and hips juddering uncontrollably as she succumbed to the pleasure he brought her.

Everything was hot. Her body, his body, the air, the sheets. She could feel nothing but the heat as the fire fuelled by absinthe ignited completely with this needed spark, pushed in deeper and deeper, until Alastor released a strangled gasp, finally enveloped in her. 

Alastor gave a cautious first thrust to gage his bearings after Charlie hissed in a pang of pain, another push to properly stretch her good enough to have her moaning lewdly, and by the third one, it was all out of control. He was off wandering to nowhere, except deeper where the pleasure lied, so that he could lose himself in her illicit cries of ecstasy when he hit the deepest part of her core and over and over again. 

“Fuck, you feel so good...”

This wasn’t the first time he has graced her with such compliments during sex, but the hedonism that came with absinthe intensified the sensations; as ridiculous at it may sound, he could swear it was like taking an innocent maiden’s purity. Such a thought turned him on at the imagination of deflowering the likeliness of a Vestal Virgin, fucking her on her robes like the most sacriligeous of acts. 

She was simply so tantalising, and it took every last bit of resolve he had to not pin her down and take her fiercely to satisfy the hunger torturing his core. With her being at his mercy, his mind was going blank, only an incomprehensible mess of incoherent thoughts of her body, of  _ her, _ left. The sensation was maddening, and uncontrollable; an instinct began to overtake him, and it was only when he could finally feel her warmth on himself that a jolt ran through his spine, an overdose of pleasure electrifying his brain and shutting down all sense of human thought, bringing forth a beast which wished for nothing more than to devour her whole.

And Alastor wasn’t the only one bursting at the seam with desire. In a moment of both intimacy and ecstasy in its purest forms, Charlie craved things ridiculous for someone of her profession; to have him united with her like this in both body and soul, the expression of intimacy making her yearn to be held like this forever, the sort that wanted fun with the right kind of play of her wildest imaginations and the affections holding reign to her heart. Him in his entirety was the only high she would ever desire in this life, compacting her senses that it’s like while she breathes she was his in mind, body and soul, the only thing in the world able of granting her fulfillment to this frenzy.

“Alastor!” she cried, choked sobs of joy with each thrust taking her breath away more and more. “F-Fuck!”

He wanted to answer her call and to have her name roll off his tongue as sweetly as his did on hers. Alas, if she was breathless, he was absolutely choked by the arousal overwhelming him to the nth degree. His mouth hung open in strangled gasps that weren’t helped by the pulsations of her wet, hot and velvety walls around his hard member, drawing him closer and closer to that sweet release.

Even with the climax he continued to thrust into her with a rabid intensity, white hot flashes of electricity splitting his conscience apart until he was no longer man or beast. And as he moved into her, he watched in adoration as she took the load he spilt into her, becoming filled with a different sort of liquid desire intermingling with her own, feeling her divine flesh being coated in the mix of their essences and flowing with only currents of pleasure breathed in and gushed out like a fervent waterfall. 

They weren’t too sure of what happened next, only knowing they were drifting out to the sound of their hearts beating and the fire crackling, the imagination of fairies fluttering manically above their tired forms. 

Morning came, waking Charlie up with a kiss of sunshine to the face, the gesture not much appreciated, as the first thing she felt was a terrible, throbbing hangover. Groaning, she furiously turned her back to the sun, snuggling up to Alastor. He softly groaned, too; she snickered, thinking he must have awoken too, being attacked by the rays in the same way she was, a forearm thrown over his eyes a futile shield and defense. His brows were knitted; it would appear a horrid migraine wasn’t only her share.

“Mm… darling?” Alastor mumbled sleepily. Even speaking was a struggle through the headache.

“God…” Charlie mumbled groggily, eyes screwing shut tighter to block out the unwelcoming brightness of the room. “What the hell was in that drink?”

“Absinthe sure can do a good number.” 

“Yeah? Wouldn’t have guessed,” the teasing irony in her voice making him chuckle. The regret came swiftly in the form of another pang of pain breaking apart his temple, with no apparent medicine anywhere out there to make him feel better.

Except, there was.

Pulling Charlie closer, he nuzzled into the nape of her neck, breathing in the sweet aroma of her hair. She breathed deeper, content in the tender embrace. Somehow, just being wrapped around by his arms made her feel better, safer and relaxed. Although, she thought to herself, a glass of water would do even more miracles. Maybe a pickle with that, too.

However, she didn’t want the moment to end, and neither did he. And so they lied there, together, so blissfully together, taking in the serene atmosphere.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, darling.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day everyone! Blessing this little holiday with a new little naughty one-shot of The Way series! Who wouldn't like nice and sensual drunken smut on the holiday that celebrates love? (Pretty sure dancer!Charlie and Sex-Appealastor do!) XD
> 
> But it isn't just Valentine's Day! Muse and Frumpy would like to wish a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY to our darling milkmaid Dessie [(@descendree)](https://twitter.com/descendree) and here's hoping that she's having an absolutely marvellous Dessie Day!
> 
> Here's to celebrating love!


End file.
